


The Coldstone Creamery Connection

by xDx



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDx/pseuds/xDx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A college fic in which Dom's proposal to Mal falls flat, Arthur likes chocolate milkshakes, and Eames is pretty much still a forger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coldstone Creamery Connection

My pocket vibrated insistently for the fourth time. Irritated, I brushed a hand through my hair. It was getting way too long, coming to reach a point near my chin so I had to tuck it awkwardly behind my ears. 'I need a haircut.' The phone buzzed again. Sighing, I realized that ignoring it would not make it go away.

I pulled it out of my blazer pocket, checking the screen with a glance. 'Oh, great. Loverboy.' I flipped it open with some irritation. "What do you want Cobb?"

"Something's wrong with Mal!" My breath caught in my throat as my thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"What do you mean, something's wrong with her?" I asked softly. My voice has a surprisingly gentle tone when I'm inclined to murder this particular idiot.

"No, nothing like...serious. I just did something stupid and she ran off and won't return my calls. Listen, I really need your help man! Can I meet you somewhere?" His desperation swayed me slightly, and I found myself giving in with a sigh.

"Yeah, I'm across campus at the Coldstone Creamery." I was, in fact, having a rather nice time before this asshat called to ruin my day with Mal's melodramatics. Well, it's not Mal's fault. She's lovely.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up without saying goodbye, not that I would have cared either way, and I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Standing and stretching slightly, I tossed my copy of Jane Eyre and a highlighter into my shoulder bag.

Eyeing my peanut buttery chocolate milkshake, I considered tossing it to hide any evidence of my chocolatey weakness. Fuck Dom, I'm keeping it.

I left the storefront, emerging into the bright sun of midday lighting the campus quad. Ill-dressed guys on skateboards swept past me, their hair sending waves of pot-smell past. I could feel a pinched look on my face as I made my way to sit on a bench and wait. I sipped at my milkshake noisily. Dom arrived quickly clutching a tired-looking bouquet of roses.

"What, praytell, is that you're carrying?" I indicated the flowers with a single elegant finger.

"I proposed to her, Arthur! But then she ran out of the restaurant and I haven't spoken to her since last night and I don't know what I did wrong but I guess I did something and I need to apologize and oh, please, help me!" I noticed his disheveled hair and twice-worn t-shirt with amusement.

"Calm down," I ordered. I walked over to him, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. "You'll have to slow down and explain to me what happened exactly so that I can help fix it."

Comically, his face looked absolutely relieved, as if my words had fixed all the troubles of the world already.

"Seriously, though," I continued. "Not with these." Plucking the roses out of his hand, I casually tossed them towards a nearby trash bin--only to realize someone was crossing my path at the moment. 'Some footballer, if I'm not mistaken. Something Eames, isn't it? Or is Eames his first name?' I registered a surprised look on his face before turning back to Cobb.

"Come inside and tell me what's happened." We both hurried into the ice cream parlor. Dom actually showed an interest in the ice cream, and my irritation with him waned as he got a cup of mint chocolate chip and offered to share. I passed.

"So, you proposed," I prompted. He nodded vigorously, spoon still stuck in his mouth.

"I took her to that nice Parisian restaurant downtown. I let her order everything, like you said, and then at the end I was telling her--you know," he looked vaguely uncomfortable, "that I feel--things--for her. And then she got this shell-shocked look like I'd just told her I'd kicked a kitten."

Rolling my eyes at his unease, I took a moment to pause thoughtfully. Mal and I had joked often of Dom's inability to say the 'l-word' and his possible emotional retardation. Curiously, I couldn't see it actually affecting her adversely.

As I thought, I noticed Eames sitting outside on the bench I'd vacated previously. His dirty blonde hair ruffled with the wind as he grinned rather stupidly down at the roses I'd tossed at him. I turned back to Cobb.

"I don't know what you did," I finally said. "If you ever tell Mal I said this, I will kill you, but... she loves you. I would think she'd be rather pleased to hear it back."

Dom grinned stupidly, too. Insufferable idiots. My lips quirked, but sheer willpower kept me from smiling.

"I guess you might have to re-enact it word for word so that I can understand what you said wrong. If you can manage." I rolled my eyes. Dom agreed eagerly.

"I'll start with after the tiramisu," he said. He took one of my hands in both of his. "Mal, I know that we've had some turbulent times before and that we've had some truly spectacular fights, but I would be willing to fight with you every day for the rest of my life if you'd allow it."

Vaguely, I registered the world passing around us--the girls behind the counter whispering adoringly after us, the patrons gossiping, the ring of the bell above the door.

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

We were startled by an audible gasp. Dom and I turned to look at the doorway, where stood Eames in all his 250-pound footballer glory, clutching those damn flowers. He wore a look of confusion and possible horror. I snatched my hand away from Dom's, feeling my cheeks flush, as Eames clamped his mouth shut and tossed the roses onto the floor. He stomped angrily from the shop.

Before I could stop myself, I laughed. After a few seconds, Dom joined me, the two of us almost giggling with mirth. After a few indulgent moments, I managed to school my features properly and return to the task at hand.

"If anything, I don't think bringing up your infamous fights was a grand idea. But Mal knows you. She understands that you're incapable of truly romantic gestures." I shrugged helplessly. "Shall I call her for you?" Dom sighed, resigned.

"Yes, please." He seemed to fold in on himself, looking for all the world like a rejected puppy. I pulled out my cell and pressed the speed dial. On the third ring, my French friend answered.

"Hello, Arthur. Do you by chance have Dom with you?" Mal cut to the chase. I affirmed. "Well, would you tell him to meet me please? I would like to see him in the Hall Building in a half an hour. Be a dear and let him know, oui? Au revoir!" As she hung up, I blinked at the phone in confusion.

"She wants to meet you," I told him, giving the details. "This should be cleared up shortly, then, and you've interrupted my afternoon for nothing."

Cobb did not look apologetic.

"Thanks, Arthur, you're a real pal." He clapped me on the shoulder soundly before standing up. "I've gotta swing by the dorms. Change my clothes, you know?" He was up and out the door before I could say goodbye. 'Doesn't anyone say goodbye anymore?!' With a small shrug to myself, I made my way out of the shop and onto the quad once more.

I meandered slowly, with no destination in mind, towards the fine arts building where my British Literature class was held. My milkshake, almost melted, tasted heavenly as I finished it with a slurp. I tossed it into the rubbish, managing to not hit any innocent passersby. From my bag, I pulled Jane Eyre, intending to read another chapter before I reached the red brick structure.

Until, with a glance, a wild Eames appeared in my path. His steps were determined, even from a distance. I watched him, muscles visible beneath his tight t-shirt, with more than a little appreciation. His heavy steps, petulant stomps really, were headed vaguely in my direction. I lifted my book a little higher, feigning reading so I could watch him pass.

As he crossed the space between us, I noticed with growing uneasiness that he was headed almost straight towards me. 'Certainly, he doesn't think the roses were a prank aimed towards him?' I swallowed, thinking of my slight build against his muscular one. Almost instantly, my thoughts became more heated than intended, so I distracted myself by watching him again.

"Eames," I said, managing to sound around half as menacing in warning as I'd hoped. 'He really is getting alarmingly close.' In seconds he was fifteen, ten, six feet away from me before suddenly he was entirely too close and looming purposefully.

"Um," I said eloquently, arching an eyebrow. His face twisted slightly with consternation before he reached out with monstrously large hands to grab my arms around the biceps. I may have flinched, squeezing my eyes shut, before I realized that he was also pressing his lips into mine desperately. My eyes flew wide, while my brain seemed to short-circuit as I stood frozen. He pulled away.

"Sorry," he said, releasing me. "Bloody fuck. I shouldn't have done that. I just saw you with that wanker, and you've never even looked at me twice. I was just... sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes resting uncertainly on my face and bleeding hopefulness.

"Um," I managed. "Do I know you?" I slapped my hand to my face. Of course I knew him, I'd used his name. "I mean, you said I'd never looked at you twice." I was failing rather spectacularly at keeping composure.

He groaned, hugging himself and looking like he was ready to throw himself a pity party at any given moment.

"I work at the Coldstone," he muttered. "I serve you that peanut butter and chocolate nonsense every Wednesday." I remembered him serving me a large at the cost of a small and unwittingly grinned.

"Right," I said simply. "Well. That 'wanker' was Dominic Cobb, soon to be married to my meilleure amie, Mallorie Miles." Eames relaxed visibly. "I'm actually surprised that I didn't remember you. I'm generally a details man." He grinned lightly.

"Yes, well, I'm rather good at blending in," he said. He tried to smooth his hair out some. "Were you going to class? I could walk you, if you'd like." I nodded, gesturing. We fell into step quickly.

"I hope this means I get free milkshakes now," I said lightly. Eames tossed his head back and laughed. Mal...well, she would hate him. But Dom and he would get along splendidly, hopefully for a long time to come.

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially my first work posted on AO3! Dedicated to everyone still keeping the dream alive ;)


End file.
